


Sartorial Matters

by Glinda



Category: Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Clothing, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glinda/pseuds/Glinda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many who think the Marquis a harmless dandy, the Marquis sees no need to disabuse them of that notion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sartorial Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my long ago claim at overlooked I was overcome with a desire to write Neverwhere fic this evening and knocked out 500 words of it. I dunno, sometimes every word's a chore and sometimes it just sneaks up on me like that. This is one my random challenges that I want to finish this year...I'm now half-way through it, its only taken me 3 years so far, as I write approximately 2 neverwhere fics a year...

The Marquis de Carabas is greatly attached to his coat. From a purely aesthetic and even sartorial perspective, it is a fine piece of work, fitting for a man of his station, but that is really only a minor concern. It allows him to appear as a dandy, which as most professional rather than actual dandies are aware, the appearance of a dandy is as good as a mail shirt for protection on most days. On the day when it is not the coat is able to conceal a number of small but deadly weapons that ensure that it is not he who ends up with a knife between his ribs.

Carabas is a trickster at heart and knows well the power of illusion. His shoes give him just enough extra height to be useful and his coat, well his coat, disguises a great many things. Depending how he wears it, his coat can broaden his shoulders and bulk up his arms, or alternatively swing and hang in such a way that he appears thin as a rake – purposefully unthreatening until you find yourself trapped against a wall with his arm like a steel bar across your throat. Down in the tunnels with their torches or flickering electric light, he's learned to walk in such a way that the swirl of his coat can make the shadows dance to his tune and deceive all but the sharpest eyes of his enemies, as to quite where he is standing at that exact second. Many an arrow has missed its mark because of that coat, and on the few occasions where his feet aren't quite nimble enough to pull off the trick and he's been grazed, well the coat allows him to maintain the illusion that they've missed and hides the damage long enough to escape too. The colour is good for not showing blood stains too, whether his or more often that of other people. The right kind of waistcoat, he finds, is most useful for strapping the ribs too.

The Marquis de Carabas, would have you believe that certain things are below him and he can certainly afford to have his clothes tailored, but nonetheless, in the small hours when he has a moment of privacy and peace he takes care of certain things by himself. The linings and pockets of his coat have all sorts of compartments and mechanisms that he finds useful, and he inspects them regularly to ensure they're in perfect working order for those days when he needs them. But above all he seeks out the tears and the rips, where knives, bullets and arrows have all left their marks as they missed him. He repairs each injury to his coat with neat small stitches that leave no visible scar behind to mar the fabric. It's a penance and a ritual, and as such he keeps to it strictly, the better to ensure that the thugs, assassins and monsters he moves amongst every day continue to miss their mark each and every time.


End file.
